To Cheerfulness.

The Associate Minstrels.

An allegorical ode after Milton's L'Allegro signed "C. August 29, 1809." Josiah Conder mixes some irregular measures among his quatrains, and indeed is one of those MIlton imitators who mixes melancholy with his mirth. "To Cheerfulness" might be described as a Methodist-on-holiday poem: "Yet come: without or spear or shield | My soul shall fearless take the field.— | Blow, Cheerfulness! thy clarion blow! | Hope shall lead us to the foe: | We will all their powers withstand, | Triumph and possess the land" p. 170. The ode concludes with a devotional resolve: "Faith surveys her latest foe, | And bares her bosom to the blow.— | Then, while o'er my kindling lyre | Glows a momentary fire, | On thy breast, O let me lie, | And with decent triumph die!" p. 173. The volume is dedicated to James Montgomery.

Literary Panorama: "The history of this little volume, we are given to understand, is simply that of the agreement of a few friends to appear in company before the public. Each has, accordingly, contributed a portion; and each has a peculiar and appropriate character as a poet. Effusions of friendship and affection present themselves always with amenity, and often with gracefulness. No real critic can be so crabbed as to repulse them harshly. They have pleased in private, and they will not displease in public. Various degrees of poetical merit may safely be expected from associated minstrels: should they even adopt the same theme, they view it in different lights, and treat it in different manners. Some of these pieces are eminently beautiful; and we trace in them generally a course of thought strictly moral, extremely ingenious, and usually interesting" 8 (June 1810) 231.

Awake, awake my heart!
Bid each sad and morbid feeling,
O'er thy languid senses stealing,
Every active power congealing,
From thy breast depart.
Why the hours to grief consigning,
By the cypress still reclining,
Where the sun is never shining?
Wake, O wake, my heart!

Now, while Morn, with eye of blue,
And ringlets dropping still with dew,
Trips the freshened plain along,
And wakes the feathered world of song,
Up the heath-clad mountain climb,
Where the green expanse sublime,
Seas of corn, and wood, and stream,
Glow beneath the yellow beam.
Here we thy turf-altar dress,
Heart-inspiring Cheerfulness!
There each modest wild-flower lay,
That enwreathes the smiling May;
And, while the bracing gale around
Wafts the animating sound,
Glad paeans shall each tongue employ,
And Echo swell the lengthened joy.

See where, arming for the strife,
O'er the little vale of life,
Hosts of cares and sorrows, first,
From the gloomy distance burst:
Disappointment then, and Fear,
With their infantry appear;
And Disease, with haggard eye,
Leads on his dread artillery:
While, silent, 'mid the opening throng,
Time's fatal chariot rolls along.
And clouds around, and gloomy storm
Following, veil his awful form.—
Yet come: without or spear or shield
My soul shall fearless take the field.—
Blow, Cheerfulness! thy clarion blow!
Hope shall lead us to the foe:
We will all their powers withstand,
Triumph and possess the land:
Time himself shall loose his frown,
Shall himself the victor crown.

O why then yield to Sorrow?
To Duty's standard still be true:
Victory, and heaven, in view,
With Cheerfulness thy way pursue;
From her fresh courage borrow.—
O look not back with tearful eye,
Nor upward at the clouded sky:
Seize present joys while rushing by,
Nor, sighing, fear to-morrow.